


Rosalind & Robert Are Dead

by Jabyrwock



Category: BioShock Infinite, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead - Stoppard
Genre: cosmic omniscient bored geniuses, literally written in the format of a play do I even get to call this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2139642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabyrwock/pseuds/Jabyrwock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ROBERT: We could start over.<br/>ROSALIND: No. That’s the one thing we can never do.</p><p>What do the twins get up to when they're not busy orchestrating the fates of countless timelines?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosalind & Robert Are Dead

_A GENTLEMAN and a LADY passing time in a place without much visible character. The floor is not flat; there are nondescript protrusions, perhaps platforms or small identically-colored boxes. Over the course of the play, the two characters will pull various items from the unseen space behind them. For now, the obstacles are unremarkable and unremarked._

_The LUTECES (for that is the name that the two share) are well-dressed – coats, vests, ties and all. They face each other._

_The GENTLEMAN has a sandwich board hanging from his shoulders. A chalk line has been drawn down the middle, dividing it into two columns – one marked ‘heads’, one marked ‘tails’._

_The ‘heads’ section has twelve tallies marked on it._

_The ‘tails’ section has none._

_The reason being: the Gentleman (hereafter ‘ROBERT’) is flipping a coin, in the following manner: he pulls it from his pocket, holds it in his hand, considers it for a moment, tosses it in the air, and lands it in a decorative plate held by the Lady (hereafter ‘ROSALIND’). ROBERT studies it and announces it as “heads” (as it happens), and ROSALIND leans across to mark another tally on ROBERT’s board with a piece of chalk held in her hand. Something strange happens as she leans across: when she returns to her previous position, the coin is gone from the plate. ROBERT then pulls a coin from his pocket, indistinguishable from the first, and repeats the process precisely. The two have apparently been doing this for some time._

_The run of “heads” is impossible, yet ROSALIND betrays no surprise at all – she feels none. However she appears a little confused by ROBERT’s actions. Let that be her character note._

_ROBERT is far more curious about the outcome of the coin flip, but not put off by how pointless his repeated efforts appear to be – his character note._

ROBERT: Heads.

_(The coin disappears. He pulls a coin out of his pocket. The process is repeated.)_

Heads.

_(Again.)_

Heads.

_(Again.)_

Heads.

_(Again.)_

Heads.

ROSALIND _(marking the chalkboard each time)_ : You do realize that’s not how it’s done?

ROBERT _(flipping a coin)_ : Not at all. Heads.

ROSALIND _(marking the chalkboard)_ : Certainly is. It’s meant to be a new flip every time. Doing the same one over again doesn’t count.

_(ROBERT pauses in the middle of preparing the toss and focuses on ROSALIND. The coin remains in his grasp.)_

ROBERT: I want to find out if it does.

ROSALIND _(patiently)_ : It doesn't.

ROBERT: But what if it does?

ROSALIND _(less patiently)_ : But it doesn't.

ROBERT _(turning back to the coin and flipping it again)_ : You give up too easily.

ROSALIND _(catching the coin with the plate)_ : It gave up on you. _(Leaning across to mark the chalkboard while ROBERT stares down at the plate in disappointment)_ The wave collapsed. You need a new event. Inspecting this one further won’t do you any good.

ROBERT _(producing another coin)_ : Suppose a certain amount of uncertainty. There might be room for an outcome of tails.

_(The coin-tosses continue through their conversation, each one prompting another mark in the ‘heads’ column, often right as Rosalind is about to say “heads.”)_

ROSALIND: Hardly. There’s only one slot available and it’s taken by heads.

_(ROSALIND gestures at the plate, which is almost comically large compared to the tiny coin in its center.)_

ROBERT: Don't you think I'm evidence to the contrary?

ROSALIND _(flippantly)_ : You mean if I tossed you in the air and saw which way you landed?

ROBERT _(chiding)_ : I mean me. Here. With you. Heads and tails, coexisting simultaneously.

ROSALIND: Yes, but you're not you.

ROBERT: Who else would I be?

ROSALIND: The lines have blurred. Both sides look suspiciously like _(as she marks it down)_ heads. We've shared.

ROBERT: I’m well aware. You gave me my blood.

ROSALIND _(correcting)_ : I gave you my blood.

ROBERT: Yes. Quite.

ROSALIND: And more.

ROBERT: The dreams, you mean?

ROSALIND: I mean a great deal of what's in our-

ROBERT _(announcing the coin)_ : Heads.

ROSALIND _(already moving to mark the board)_ : Of course.

ROBERT: But it could be tails.

ROSALIND: Don't be lewd.

ROBERT: No, I mean – _(flustered)_ the coin. I mean our heads. Head. No, heads. _(Growing increasingly frustrated)_ What I mean is – what was the first stuffed animal you had?

ROSALIND: A toy ortolan bird. Its name was Newton.

ROBERT: I remember it.

ROSALIND _(intrigued)_ : You had the same one?

ROBERT: No. I didn’t.

ROSALIND: I see.

ROBERT: When I woke from nightmares I could not reason out, I hugged it to my chest and imagined I lay on its wings. Dreams of soaring above the world, gazing down from its back, seeing everything below me – yet beyond its reach. When dawn broke through my window, that bird would always be the first thing to catch its rays. Its eyes were painted a glorious yellow. I thought it must have been the brightest yellow I had ever seen, even more so than the sun.

ROSALIND: No. _(Slowly, apologetically, almost sadly)_ I thought that.

ROBERT: Yes. I thought as much.

ROSALIND: I’m sorry.

ROBERT _(with a hint of bitterness)_ : I know.

_(There is a period of silence.)_

ROSALIND: Do you recall what happened to Newton?

ROBERT: You dropped it out of a window. You had thought it might fly.

_(ROSALIND nods. Even as she displays sympathy for his discomfort, she can’t help but be fascinated by the connection between them.)_

Then you replaced it with a stuffed snake you named Planck.

_(From offstage comes the sound of a conversation between a tinny, pompous MACHINE and a NEW YORKER.)_

AUTOMATON: Sorry, pal, the raffle is all sold out. Entrance is reserved for dignitaries and very important personages alone.

BOOKER: I'm guessing that don't mean me.

_(ROSALIND and ROBERT have turned slightly to face the invisible speakers. As they do so, it becomes clear that the sandwich board on ROBERT’s back has been similarly divided – and that there are, in fact, one hundred and ten marks under its ‘heads’ column. At the same time, their shift in pose has changed their dynamic. Now that they face more in the same direction than against each other, their conversation too becomes more united.)_

ROSALIND _(considering)_ : Does that man remind you of anyone?

ROBERT: He does bear a remarkable resemblance to a certain self-proclaimed Prophet.

ROSALIND: Yes, I think you're right.

ROBERT: Though only in certain respects.

ROSALIND: The similarities outnumber the differences.

ROBERT: The differences outweigh the similarities.

ROSALIND: That remains to be seen.

ROBERT: By us?

ROSALIND: We do little else.

ROBERT: Perhaps he can settle our dispute.

ROSALIND: The coin toss?

ROBERT: That too.

ROSALIND: You think he might alter the outcome?

ROBERT: He is a variable.

ROSALIND: Why should it matter who performs the action?

ROBERT: His involvement introduces uncertainty.

ROSALIND: There is no uncertainty.

ROBERT: Are you certain of that?

ROSALIND: Certainly.

ROBERT: A bet, then.

ROSALIND: A bet?

ROBERT: If you're so confident.

ROSALIND: What?

ROBERT _(confidently)_ : I bet it lands heads.

ROSALIND: No, that's – the wrong way round.

ROBERT: Is it?

ROSALIND: Isn't it?

ROBERT: My bet was on heads the first time. It would hardly be scientific to introduce two variables at once.

ROSALIND: I fail to see the relevance.

ROBERT: It was a choice.

ROSALIND: But you always went with heads.

ROBERT: That time.

ROSALIND: That time you always went with heads.

ROBERT: But he might not.

ROSALIND: We're giving _him_ the choice?

ROBERT: In the coin toss?

ROSALIND: That too.

ROBERT: Of course.

ROSALIND: Why?

ROBERT: That's what they're for, aren't they? Coin tosses. Winning is an agreement between your choice and the universe’s.

ROSALIND: But why in the first place did you-

ROBERT: Look, are you going to take the bet or not?

ROSALIND _(easily letting go)_ : Apparently I will.

ROBERT: Well, when?

ROSALIND: I just did.

ROBERT: When?

ROSALIND: Just now.

ROBERT: I must have missed it.

ROSALIND: We don't do that anymore.

ROBERT: We do if we're not paying attention.

ROSALIND _(slightly exasperated)_ : I said I would take the bet.

ROBERT _(equally exasperated)_ : You said you _will_ take it.

ROSALIND: Isn't that enough?

ROBERT: But you haven't done it yet.

ROSALIND: Will do. Have done. Am doing. You fret too easily.

_(Offstage, sounds of spinning gears and shifting machinery as BOOKER possesses the AUTOMATON.)_

AUTOMATON: Well, if it isn't Assemblyman Buford! Your spot at the raffle awaits! Don't know why I didn't recognize you before. Odd! Always good to have gentlemen of your caliber at our fine fairgrounds!

ROBERT: He's coming towards us.

ROSALIND: He was always going to.

_(BOOKER enters the stage as ROSALIND and ROBERT finish turning to face him. He is grim; focused; far from clean-shaven. As the LUTECES speak to BOOKER, they each bob their head in turn. Entirely facing another character rather than each other or the audience, they have become almost a single entity.)_

ROBERT: Heads?

ROSALIND: Or tails?

BOOKER _(in no mood for games)_ : Come on, let me through.

_(ROBERT flicks a coin to BOOKER, who catches it automatically.)_

ROBERT: Heads?

ROSALIND: Or tails?

BOOKER: Huh?

_(He looks down at the coin, taken off guard. He doesn’t have time for this. Time, however, seems to be suspended: holding its breath for the impending moment in which he will unquestionably choose-)_

Tails.

_(He tosses the coin. Just as before, it lands in ROSALIND’s plate.)_

ROBERT: Told you.

_(And the spell is broken. ROSALIND once again adds to the ‘heads’ column.)_

ROSALIND _(unamused)_ : Hmm.

ROBERT: I never find that as satisfying as I'd imagined.

ROSALIND: Chin up. _(She actually places a hand under his chin and lifts it.)_ There's always next time.

ROBERT _(resigned)_ : I suppose there is.

_(They turn back to face the audience and step forward. BOOKER is left staring past their sides, utterly at a loss. He glances back at them, as if about to ask what the point of his choice was, then thinks better of it and walks past them off the stage.)_

ROSALIND: Perhaps we should keep track.

ROBERT: Of the tosses? _(He gestures deprecatingly at the sandwich board.)_ We are.

ROSALIND: No. Of him.

ROBERT _(thoughtfully, slightly nervously)_ : This wasn’t the first time we gave him the coin.

ROSALIND: No.

ROBERT: We’ve done this before.

ROSALIND: We’ll do this again.

ROBERT: Maybe not.

ROSALIND: There’s always a next time.

ROBERT: Maybe so.

ROSALIND: Either way-

ROBERT: We should keep track.

_(They are silent for a few moments – thinking, recalling. Then they speak at once:)_

ROSALIND: How many times has he-

ROBERT: Do you remember all-

_(Another, somewhat embarrassed silence. This time ROSALIND speaks alone.)_

ROSALIND: I suppose it’s pointless.

ROBERT: We could start over.

ROSALIND: No. That’s the one thing we can never do.

_(ROBERT flips the coin again. ROSALIND, perhaps irritated by the reminder of their limitations, knocks the coin away before it can land. It tumbles to the floor.)_

Stop that. You’ll drive yourself mad.

ROBERT: How would you tell?

_(Nevertheless, ROBERT acquiesces and pulls off the sandwich board. He bends to hide it behind one of the obstacles.)_

ROSALIND: It was driving me mad, anyways.

_(As ROBERT bends, ROSALIND bends; as he puts away the board, she pulls out a bright orange vial, which she places on the platter.)_

ROBERT: I say.

_(Still bent down, he has spotted the coin ROSALIND knocked away earlier. He straightens back up.)_

You’ll never guess which side-

_(There is the sound of a door creaking open.)_

ROSALIND: Do you hear that?

ROBERT: I did.

_(ROBERT gazes about him, startled, as though just noticing his surroundings for the first time. He hurriedly pulls a rag from behind an obstacle and begins to wipe its surface as BOOKER enters, again from offstage.)_

ROBERT: We have company.

ROSALIND: We do indeed.

BOOKER _(accusing)_ : Why are you following me?

ROSALIND _(indignantly)_ : We were already here.

ROBERT _(equally so)_ : Why are you following us?

BOOKER: I-

ROSALIND: Aperitif?

_(BOOKER turns to ROSALIND, stares in confusion at the bottle on her plate, and walks over to her. He looks around, reaches out, then stops. Once again, he has no idea what to do.)_

ROBERT _(noticing the bottle, then returning to his ‘work’)_ : You'll find that handy in a pinch.

ROSALIND: The difference between life and death.

_(At last, BOOKER picks up the bottle and, in a single sharp movement, drinks the whole thing down.)_

BOOKER: Ohh…

_(BOOKER flinches and shakes his head to clear it. ROSALIND steps aside and looks more closely at him.)_

What was that?

ROSALIND: Hmm. Surprising.

ROBERT: Surprising that it worked?

_(BOOKER turns back to ROBERT. With each change in speaker he shifts his gaze again, growing progressively dizzier.)_

ROSALIND: Surprising that it didn't kill him.

ROBERT: But a magnetic-propulsive field around one's body can come in handy.

ROSALIND: If it doesn't kill you.

ROBERT: A fair point.

_(BOOKER, now thoroughly disoriented, hurriedly exits the stage past ROSALIND.)_

ROSALIND: An eloquent entertainer. Must have been classically-

ROBERT: Conditioned.

ROSALIND: Trained, yes. _(She puts the plate away and sighs.)_ I had forgotten how boring single-mindedness is.

ROBERT: I find it intriguing. It is the only mental state we cannot experience. The final barrier. In retrospect, vexingly obvious – the only limit to our complete understanding is the understanding of incompleteness.

ROSALIND: You always were intrigued by limits. I, however, find them boring. Or perhaps a better word would be ‘irrelevant’. No, perhaps not. I am not irrelevanted. I am bored.

ROBERT: Shall I entertain you?

_(ROBERT pulls out a tennis ball and starts tossing it back and forth between his hands. ROSALIND regards him with no change of expression.)_

ROSALIND: Am I meant to be entertained?

ROBERT: It passes the time.

ROSALIND: We don’t.

_(ROBERT sighs.)_

ROBERT: No. We never do. We merely are.

ROSALIND: Is it ‘merely’?

ROBERT: What would you call it?

ROSALIND: Miraculously.

ROBERT: Miracles are not a scientific phenomenon.

ROSALIND: Neither are we.

ROBERT: I suppose not.

ROSALIND: Measure us-

ROBERT: And you will find nothing there.

ROSALIND: We are beyond the domain of the empirical.

ROBERT: Above it.

ROSALIND: Seeing it all below us-

ROBERT: Yet beyond its reach.

ROSALIND _(correcting)_ : Because we are beyond its reach. Only by removing ourselves from the system could we perceive it in its totality. That is the price of understanding.

ROBERT: We did not choose to pay it.

ROSALIND: Why should that matter?

_(ROBERT has nothing to say to that. He pulls out a second ball and adds it to the mix; he is now juggling.)_

ROBERT: Nevertheless. Do you ever wonder?

ROSALIND: What it would be like?

ROBERT: To live again.

ROSALIND: To give up all that we are.

ROBERT: In exchange for what we could do.

ROSALIND: Never.

ROBERT: Why not?

ROSALIND: When I was a child I had a dream. _(Coolly)_ Perhaps you remember it. I told my mother it meant I was going to become a brilliant physicist. She told me it was a nightmare and that I should not worry myself further with such matters. When I grew irritated she said encouragingly that I might marry a brilliant physicist. She was far from the last to express such sentiments. Later they were less polite. I promised myself I would never be dissuaded from the path of knowledge, no matter the price. Our lives have not been wholly alike. We both wrote books, brother. I wrote mine on principles. You wrote yours on barriers.

ROBERT: And on how to overcome them.

ROSALIND _(cryptically)_ : All the more so.

_(ROBERT adds a third ball. ROSALIND remains unimpressed.)_

ROBERT: You’ve really never wondered what legacy you could leave behind?

ROSALIND: I have no interest in leaving.

ROBERT: The point remains-

ROSALIND: You have very bright ideas of legacy. It is much easier for you to do so. Men envision legacies. Women are left to bear the costs.

ROBERT: Or you are simply less concerned with the future.

ROSALIND: A future like Mrs. DeWitt’s?

_(ROBERT begins to respond and stops. Stops completely: the balls tumble out of his hands and fall to the floor below. They do not roll neatly behind obstacles. Some of them will remain in sight for the rest of the play. ROSALIND gasps, hurries to ROBERT’s side, and supports him. She holds a hand under his nose: a reflex. Her hand comes away clean. She sighs in relief, but does not let go.)_

ROBERT _(hollowly)_ : The child.

ROSALIND: The one she died for?

ROBERT: The one he sold-

ROSALIND: The man with the coin.

ROBERT: -to us.

ROSALIND: To you.

ROBERT: To me.

ROSALIND: Regardless of his choice.

ROBERT: We – I – bought her.

ROSALIND: With Comstock’s money.

ROBERT: For Comstock’s money.

ROSALIND: So we could be together.

ROBERT: She was our price.

ROSALIND: A man envisioned his legacy.

ROBERT: The girl bore the cost.

ROSALIND: Yes.

ROBERT: And ours.

ROSALIND: It had to happen.

ROBERT: Like our death?

ROSALIND: Very.

ROBERT: None of this would have occurred were it not for Comstock.

ROSALIND: Were it not for Mr. DeWitt.

ROBERT _(insistently)_ : Only one man need be changed.

ROSALIND: Only the man who had us killed?

ROBERT: One choice. One moment. All the rest follows.

ROSALIND: Is this justice or revenge?

ROBERT: Heads. Tails.

ROSALIND: The girl’s fate and ours.

ROBERT: And his.

ROSALIND: Have already taken place.

ROBERT: Not necessarily.

ROSALIND: Yes. There is no room left.

ROBERT: You said yourself we are beyond the rules.

ROSALIND: We’re beyond – everything. Beyond uncertainty, and pain, and ignorance. Beyond death. _(More insistently)_ Beyond loneliness. Let the living manage their own suffering. We have an infinity before us, brother, you and I.

ROBERT: I’m sorry. But it’s not enough. If you aren’t willing to help then I’ll do it on my own.

_(ROSALIND lets go of him. She remains close. ROBERT regains most of his composure, although his easy confidence no longer seems so effortless.)_

ROSALIND _(hurt)_ : Don’t be ridiculous. And do please try not to frighten me so.

_(ROBERT looks at ROSALIND’s hand and realizes what must have been going through her head. He rubs her hand reassuringly.)_

ROBERT: Are you really still afraid I need you to survive?

_(ROSALIND grasps his hand in hers.)_

ROSALIND _(primly)_ : I am fully aware that I need you.

ROBERT _(sighing)_ : And I you.

ROSALIND: And yet you want to bring those two together.

ROBERT: It worked with us.

ROSALIND: My point exactly. I helped you. The Prophet is not likely to be so generous.

ROBERT: Then the other will cope on his own.

ROSALIND: And if he cannot?

ROBERT: He’ll adapt. Form new memories.

ROSALIND: I lack your optimism.

ROBERT: He is resilient; he’ll change his story to fit. He will change.

ROSALIND: And what will we do?

ROBERT: We’ve acted upon the world before.

ROSALIND: We appeared to our photographer and berated him for the quality of our obituary picture.

ROBERT: To be fair, it did quite frighten him.

ROSALIND: We will be doing much more than frightening.

ROBERT _(admitting it)_ : Blood begets blood.

ROSALIND: Are we prepared to shed it?

ROBERT: We will not–

ROSALIND: To cause it to be shed?

ROBERT: Does it matter?

_(ROSALIND stares at him. She has nothing to say. She stands there for a few moments, as if on the brink of speech – and then, the stage abruptly dims so they can no longer be seen.)_

_(A different set of lights brighten on the figure of a mustached HUNTER resting on some sort of sleeping bag. A rifle lies next to him.)_

_(Behind him, lights flicker and settle on ROSALIND and ROBERT. These lights are harsher; beneath their beams, the LUTECES look angelic and cruel.)_

ROSALIND: Rather poor sleeping quarters.

ROBERT: What comes of being a warrior in a time of peace.

_(PRESTON E. DOWNS wakes startled and stumbles quickly to his feet.)_

PRESTON: What in the hell–

ROSALIND _(addressing him)_ : It seems times are harder than they were.

ROBERT _(also addressing him)_ : At least he still has his trophies.

PRESTON _(pointing the gun at them)_ : Best start explainin’ yourselves fast.

ROSALIND: If only those days of glory could come again.

ROBERT: But what battles are there to be won in Columbia?

_(PRESTON obviously wants to shoot them, but doesn’t have a good enough reason to do so.)_

PRESTON: That’s why I came here. Real tired of all that fighting. Bloodshed. _(Warning)_ Suits me just fine Columbia’s a place of peace.

ROSALIND: The sort of place you would have wanted for your son?

_(PRESTON, without hesitation, fires the gun directly into her head.)_

ROBERT: Missed.

_(PRESTON begins to back away. He is frightened, and not used to it.)_

PRESTON: I know who you are. Comstock’s freaks.

ROSALIND: The very same.

ROBERT: If indelicately phrased.

ROSALIND: Though hardly Comstock’s anymore.

ROBERT: Seeing as he had us killed.

PRESTON: You’re hauntin’ the living now?

ROSALIND: We seek to right certain wrongs.

ROBERT: Wrongs that we committed.

ROSALIND: There was a girl.

ROBERT: Comstock had us seize her from her father-

ROSALIND: And bring her to him.

ROBERT: So that he could use her.

ROSALIND: For the salvation of the city.

ROBERT: So he claims.

PRESTON _(shocked, shaky)_ : The Lamb…

ROSALIND: Very bright.

ROBERT: The Lamb indeed.

PRESTON: But that’s not… She’s meant to guide us, she ain’t a-

ROSALIND: She is a prisoner – held against her will in Monument Tower.

ROBERT: We brought her there.

ROSALIND: And now we seek to correct our actions.

_(PRESTON is still on edge, but smart and quick to adapt. He's beginning to understand.)_

PRESTON: Jesus, that poor child.

ROBERT: We wonder if you might help us.

ROSALIND: In fact, we need your assistance.

PRESTON: What are you tryin’ to do?

ROBERT: The False Shepherd-

ROSALIND: Will lead the Lamb astray.

ROBERT: And she will follow him. Gladly.

PRESTON: No false shepherd is getting into this city. Even the slaves know that mark.

ROSALIND: And therein lies our problem.

ROBERT: We desire him to cross a door.

ROSALIND: But every door has a guard.

ROBERT: If the False Shepherd is to arrive-

ROSALIND: The guard must depart.

PRESTON _(finally up to speed)_ : You want me t’kill.

ROBERT: The final obstacle.

ROSALIND: Between a girl and her freedom.

ROBERT: Between Sodom and Columbia.

ROSALIND: Are you equal to the task?

PRESTON: Course I am. Give me one good reason I should.

ROBERT: The False Shepherd brings war.

ROSALIND: You might well find yourself in business again.

ROBERT: And then again-

ROSALIND: It will right a wrong.

ROBERT: The girl deserves better.

PRESTON: You want me to find a way into the city and kill whoever’s blocking it just s'you can feel better about yourselves and I can make a spot of money.

ROBERT: We want it for her.

ROSALIND: But the choice is yours.

ROBERT: Peace?

ROSALIND: Or war?

ROBERT: Peace-

ROSALIND: Founded on the helplessness of a little girl taken from her family?

ROBERT: Or war-

ROSALIND: That would free her?

_(PRESTON looks back and forth between them. Then he sighs, and puts down the rifle.)_

PRESTON: All right. Fine. I’ll do it. But I’m not doing it for the business.

ROBERT: Of course not.

ROSALIND: And one last thing.

ROBERT: The fate of worlds hangs upon your actions.

ROSALIND: Don’t disappoint us.

_(The lights flicker again. ROBERT and ROSALIND disappear from view. PRESTON pulls out a long, wicked-looking knife, examines its edge, and nods as he softly repeats ROSALIND’s words to himself.)_

PRESTON: Oh, I won’t.

_(BLACKOUT.)_


End file.
